


Confiteor

by Anonymous



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 20:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17372456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: At the altar, the carved likeness of Yulia smiles down on the two of them, her arms spread wide in benediction.Jade is twelve when he joins the Curtiss household, determined to atone for the past. He's twelve but he's no longer a child, and he's determined to stamp out all traces of the irresponsible, reckless boy he had been.Curtiss approves.





	Confiteor

“You’ll need to be respectful,” Curtiss’s personal aide tells him, talking to him like he’s a child. “Lord Curtiss is a very important man. Being noticed by him is a great honor!”

Jade tunes him out – but then he remembers blood seeping through ash-grey snow, and he reminds himself harshly that he’s supposed to be different now. He won’t make a mistake like that again. Carefully, he tucks the aide’s words into his mind and nods, readying himself to meet the head of the famed Curtiss family.

Snow flurries at his feet as he strides inside the Order of Lorelei sanctuary. It’s empty today, save for the solitary figure kneeling at the altar clad in the blue uniform of a Malkuth soldier. A veritable constellation of fonstones surrounds him, shedding cool light onto his bowed head.

Jade hovers at the entrance, fingers curling and uncurling, wondering what he’s meant to do. A week ago, he would have simply stepped forward and tapped the man on the shoulder. But now…

The man at the altar – Lord Curtiss – stands. He’s tall, much taller than Jade’s birth father, with a broad frame to match, and the confident, disciplined stride of a soldier. Jade is tall for his age, but when Curtiss comes to a stop in front of him, he has to crane his neck to look him in the face. Belatedly, he wonders if he’s being _disrespectful_ by looking at him instead of bowing or saluting or whatever it is people do to military men in high positions of power.

Curtiss gives him a small smile, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re Jade?”

“Yes.” He frowns, and adds, “Sir.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Jade. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Curtiss’s eyes sweep over his face, then up and down his body. Jade is unused to the scrutiny, but he stands still and keeps looking ahead, wondering what exactly it is Curtiss had heard about him.

When it becomes apparent that Jade isn’t going to respond, Curtiss asks: “Do you know why I wanted to meet with you?”

“You’re thinking about adopting me,” he responds without hesitation. That’s what the aide had told him yesterday. It came as a complete surprise, but Jade had been curious enough to agree to come to this meeting – it’s better than sitting around, wanting to try his hand at creating another replica but unsure if he should go through with it. “It makes sense that you’ll want to meet me before finalizing anything.”

Curtiss nods. He rests his hand on Jade’s shoulder again, but this time, he keeps it there. “That’s right. You’re a very clever boy, Jade, but even with your intelligence, there’s only so much you can achieve in Keterburg. I have a deal for you.” His grip on Jade’s shoulder warm and firm, he steers the two of them to the pews. “Here, come sit with me. We have a lot to discuss.”

Curtiss wants to know all about him first: his schooling, his physical condition, his accomplishments with fonic artes. Jade doesn’t like to say much even at the best of times, but he’s even more recalcitrant than usual today – it’s difficult to talk when he’s still sorting out all the pieces inside his head, the recent past a raw, bleeding wound. Curtiss seems to understand. He starts talking about life in Grand Chokmah instead, painting a vivid picture of advanced research laboratories, highly-trained staff, generous funding and resources from a military _very_ interested in seeing his fomicry technology come to fruition…

Jade never stood a chance. Curtiss has his undivided attention within the first three seconds.

This time, when Curtiss gently prods him for answers, Jade is a little more open. Softly, his shoes scuffing against the cool marble floor, he describes the events leading up to Professor Nebilim’s death. His voice remains steady as he describes the replica he had created, the spray of blood against snow as it ripped apart the soldier that had came upon the scene, draining him of his fonons of Rem and Shadow in an instant. Then it had disappeared. It was little more than a wild beast – a wild beast that knew it was outclassed. It knew that he had intended to dispose of her, so it ran.

“That replica was a failure,” he finishes. He speaks quietly, but his voice seems to echo off the vaulted ceiling of the sanctuary, resounding loud and clear. At the altar, the carved likeness of Yulia smiles down on the two of them, her arms spread wide in benediction. “But I’m going to try again. I already have some theories on how the arte can be improved. I don’t plan on stopping until I succeed.”

Curtiss is silent. After a few seconds, Jade glances at him, but he can’t glean anything from his impassive expression. He looks back at the ground, willing himself to sit still.

It almost comes as a surprise when Curtiss finally speaks. “An ambitious goal.”

_He supports me?_ But before he can say anything, Curtiss continues speaking: “It’ll require a lot of dedication from you, but I don’t think you lack for that. You’re a remarkable boy, Jade. I’ll be glad to have you by my side in Grand Chokmah as a formal member of the Curtiss family. There’s much you can achieve with the resources there, things that would be impossible this far north. Still, I imagine you’ll want to have some time to think over your decision, so let’s leave things for today.”

He makes to stand, but before he even gets fully to his feet, Jade blurts out: “Wait!”

As Curtiss looks enquiringly at him, Jade seethes at himself. He’s supposed to _think_ before acting. But it’s too late to take back what he said, so he looks Curtiss in the eye. There’s nothing left for him in Keterburg. He needs to atone for what he had done – for killing the Professor – and to do that, he needs to go to Grand Chokmah. “I’ll come.”

Immediately, Curtiss breaks into a warm smile, his broad, powerful hand clasping Jade’s slender one. “Excellent,” he says fervently. “Of course, I already knew you would be coming with me, but it’s good to hear it from you.”

Confused, Jade doesn’t say a word, but Curtiss responds to the unspoken question behind his eyes. From his pocket he pulls out a chip of pale blue-grey stone and presses it into Jade’s hand. “A fragment from my birthday Score,” he explains. His voice grows deeper, didactic, as he recites from memory: “ _On this year, the head of the Curtiss family shall journey North. There, he shall find a great power to elevate his family in the eyes of the one who wears Malkuth’s crown._ ”

Again, he smiles, a glittering heat in his eyes. “And so you see, your decision was foretold in the Score, as is the success of your research. Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Jade frowns at the pale chip of stone, its crystalline edges digging into his palm. What an incredibly vague Score. It doesn’t mention him specifically, never mind fomicry or Professor Nebilim or anything that he actually cares about. It doesn’t even mention an adoption. But he has the feeling that Curtiss won’t appreciate his skepticism, so he forces down the instinct to speak his mind and swallows his doubts, stifling them in his throat.

It isn’t enough. The smile had disappeared from Curtiss’s face, replaced by an unreadable expression. Jade curls his fingers around the fonstone, hoping he hasn’t already aroused Curtiss’s ire – he _needs_ to go to Grand Chokmah. His hesitation isn’t such a big deal, isn’t it? It’s only logical to hold some reservations about such a vague reading.

“Why don’t you keep the fonstone?” Curtiss says at last. If he’s displeased, Jade can’t sense it. “As a reminder of what you’ll accomplish.”

It’s probably a little premature to speak of accomplishments, but Jade nods anyway, pocketing the fonstone.

His thoughts don’t return to that fonstone until a week later, when Curtiss shows him around the lab that will be his once all the paperwork gets through. Of course, he’ll have to submit more paperwork after that, then even more – the lab is spacious but disused, the lack of equipment emphasizing its high ceilings and bare walls. Jade thinks he sees a few cobwebs, the dusty threads trailing from a lonely ceiling light. Unacceptable. If he’s to work with replicas of organic matter, he’ll need a clean environment.

A broad, warm hand settles across the nape of his neck. “You don’t seem very happy,” Curtiss observes, thumb rubbing slow circles against his skin. Jade fights the instinct to pull away from the overly-familiar touch. “Look at you, you’re all wound up. Is something wrong?”

_Obviously._ But Jade bites back the sharp response and lifts his shoulders slightly.

“Are you disappointed that you won’t be able to start your research immediately?” Curtiss’s hand trails down his spine. Goosebumps prickle all over Jade’s skin, and he can’t shake off his unease even when Curtiss stops stroking his back several long seconds later, his hand coming to rest against his waist. “Your eagerness is commendable, Jade, but if you’re to head a lab all on your own, you need to be realistic. These things take time to set up.”

Jade knows he’s overreacting – he’s always hated intrusions on his personal space – but something about the way he’s being touched sets him on edge. Not that he can do anything about it; arguing with his new father this early on is just asking for trouble. Besides, he’s at the lab to _work,_ so there’s no reason he should be distracting himself with this anyway.

Firmly, he shoves his unease from his mind, eyes roaming around all the empty space of the lab as he tries to make himself see potential instead of disappointment. They gave him a large area to work with. He can partition it out according to his own wishes. He’ll need an area dedicated to creating replicas, a space to hold them for study, fon machines to monitor their vitals…

He jumps when Curtiss suddenly speaks, right against his ear. “Besides, didn’t I already tell you? Trust in the Score. It will provide.”

Carefully, Jade smooths down the displeasure that threatens to show, giving Curtiss a brusque nod.

His feelings don’t matter. Scored success or no, he’ll do whatever it takes to bring the Professor back. He owes her that much.

\---

“Young Master! Lord Curtiss has requested your presence in his study.”

Jade dismisses the maidservant with a wave of his hand, irritation plain on his face. He doesn’t have time for this. After a month of running back and forth, tripped up by pointless bureaucracy every step of the way, he’s finally getting started on his research. The last few days had ground his patience down to a shred; everyone assigned to work with him had been eager to question the competence of a twelve-year-old, and it feels like he spends more time arguing in circles than actually doing anything _useful._ It’s enough to make him wonder if he can replicate himself – at least his own replicas won’t be constantly trying to undermine him.

And now Curtiss is also intruding on his precious time. What could he possibly want? Jade moves briskly through the manor, scowl firmly in place as he knocks on the door to Curtiss’s study.

“Come in.”

Curtiss is at his desk. There’s something in his cupped hands, sparkling blue-grey in the evening light – a fonstone. Of course. Irritably, Jade wonders if his adoptive father keeps his precious fonstones by his side even when he sleeps.

Jade moves to stand by his side as Curtiss rises to greet him, and they go through the usual pointless motions of courtesies, the _how are you_ and the _fine, thank you, you?_ All the while, Jade’s fingers tap restlessly against his thigh, his mind wandering; he wants to be back in his own study, jotting down new ideas for his research.

He’s abruptly pulled back to the present when Curtiss rests both hands on his shoulders, gripping tight. “Look at me, Jade.”

Even Jade has to obey that tone of command. His eyes meet Curtiss’s, noting the way Curtiss is frowning, his mouth tight, eyebrows drawn sharply downwards. Jade glances away, shifting his weight from side to side. His shoulders lift fractionally, an aborted attempt to shrug off Curtiss’s hands.

Curtiss only holds on more tightly. “This is important. I need you to pay attention.”

Jade doesn’t really see what could be more important than his research, but he reminds himself that he’s trying to get out this meeting as quickly as possible, so he should pick his battles. “I’m listening.”

“Are you really?” Curtiss watches him with glittering blue eyes, a blue so fair that it’s almost grey. “You haven’t been listening to me this past while.”

“What are you even talking about?”

Jade’s shoulders are starting to ache from being gripped so tightly, but Curtiss doesn’t relent. “The _Score,_ Jade,” he snaps. “I’ve sent my personal Scorer to perform readings for you every morning, but you’ve refused him every single day this past week without fail. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Of all the things…Curtiss is wasting his time. Jade doesn’t shrug his hands off – yet – but he’s very tempted. “You know I’ve been busy this week. I had to get to the lab as early as possible. I didn’t have time for your Scorer.”

Thoughtlessly, he adds: “His readings have always been too vague to be useful anyway.”

Curtiss slaps him.

The blow lashes right across Jade’s cheek, hard enough to knock his glasses askew. Even before the pain sinks in, Jade is already scrambling away, raising his arms defensively. “What? Why?” he demands, surprised and angry all at once. It doesn’t make sense. What made Curtiss think needless violence would accomplish anything?

A shadow falls over him. Instinctively, he takes a step back before his rational mind catches up with him and he stands his ground, glaring at Curtiss. “That was unnecessary.”

“Was it?” Curtiss stares down at him, stone-faced.  “Have you forgotten why you’re here? You’re very intelligent, but you’re far too arrogant. I would have thought that you would know better by now, considering…”

_The Professor._ Jade’s gaze drops to the floor, the fight slowly draining from him like spilled blood. He had resolved to change, hadn’t he? It hasn’t even been a week, and already he’s reverted back to the same reckless, thoughtless _child_ he was, ruled by his own blind ambitions.

Still, he has difficulty accepting the idea that striking him would solve anything. Or is that just his arrogance speaking? Curtiss had gotten him to listen, after all.

Curtiss is already continuing relentlessly. “I’ve been receiving reports from the North these past few weeks. I thought I would keep them from you since they’ll cause unnecessary distraction, but now, I think it’ll do you good to know.”

A hand closes around his slim wrist, broad enough to encircle it entirely and then some. Curtiss grips him with bruising force, taking another step forward. Jade _wants_ to fight, but if he’s serious about changing, then...

Jade falls back before him, conceding ground. Before he knows it, Curtiss has him backed against the wall, and still he looms over Jade. “There has been a series of murders. The most recent victim was one of my soldiers.” Curtiss’s voice is almost a growl. Jade flinches as his other wrist is grabbed, and suddenly both his wrists are effortlessly pinned over his head, Curtiss holding him in place with only one hand. He breathes shallowly as he stares up at Curtiss, his mind working furiously in a fruitless attempt to figure out Curtiss’s motives. Is he planning some form of retribution for his subordinate? But what about his precious Score? How is this related to him, anyway?

He suspects that he knows the answer to that last part, but it doesn’t make it any easier when Curtiss says: “His body was found ripped apart, as if savaged by a wild animal. But he died before then. _Something_ drained all his fonons of Rem and Shadow.”

Jade feels sick. “The replica.”

Curtiss nods. He rights Jade’s glasses, then strokes the reddened skin he had struck just a moment ago. The attention sends unease twisting in Jade’s stomach, but he’s too busy thinking about the replica he had created. He should have pursued it. He should have finished what he had started. He has a duty.

“My Score today spoke of overcoming challenges,” Curtiss intones, drawing Jade back into the present. He is still gripping his wrists with iron strength. Jade wonders at the sudden change of topic, but perhaps it’s not so surprising – with Curtiss, everything comes back to the Score eventually. “Anger, giving way to serenity and understanding.”

Abruptly, he lets Jade go.  Jade falls back, but there’s nowhere to go, just the wall cold and unyielding against his back. He hunches into himself as he rubs at his wrists. Curtiss had held onto him so tightly that he had left white imprints, visible even against his Keterburg-pale skin.

When he finally looks up again, he finds Curtiss staring at him, a strange heat in his eyes, different from the one he gets when talks about the Score.

“I understand this must be difficult for you,” he says, his eyes raking sharply down Jade’s small form. “But you’re not a child any more. You’re old enough to know better, and I expect better from you. Have more regard for the Score, Jade. You’re not going to achieve anything without its guidance.”

Jade forces himself to nod.

\---

Old habits are difficult to break. Jade knows he should have more self-control than this, but he doesn’t even try to bite back an irritated noise as he crosses out the fonic glyph he had just drawn, his pen scoring deep marks in the paper. Immediately, he regrets it. He could have ripped the page. Over and over again, he had told himself to stop sulking like a child, but nothing had been able to lift the thundercloud darkening his mind. He utterly lacks discipline, and he quietly despises himself for it.

Breathing out slowly through his nose, Jade shuts his eyes, listening to the crash of waves outside the ship. He thinks he can hear gulls calling. Perhaps they’re almost at their destination.

For Jade’s fourteenth birthday, Curtiss had decided to take them to Daath. It’s long overdue for him to embark on the monument pilgrimage, Curtiss had said. Jade, naturally, had rebelled against the intrusion on his time, especially since things had been going well at the labs. Now that Saphir had joined him in Grand Chokmah, they had made great progress combining fonic artes and fontech to create more stable replicas. The forced break from his work was unnecessary and unappreciated. Determined not to fall behind, Jade had spent most of the journey to Daath locked in his cabin, scribbling away well into the early hours of the morning with only a softly-glowing fonstone lamp for company. Deep down, he knows that he had locked himself away as a form of (largely futile) protest, but it’s easier to stew in his frustration than it is to play nice with Curtiss. Besides, he had already come up with several theories he’s keen to put into practice. Maybe he’ll even be able to test out some of the them on the fauna they’ll encounter during the pilgrimage…

A horn sounds, signaling their arrival. The next hour is a blur of activity as they disembark, boarding a carriage to take them straight to Daath, far ahead of the pilgrims taking the trip on foot. Jade looks out of the window as he goes through advanced fonic theory in his mind, Curtiss a quiet, baleful presence beside him.

How strange. He thought his adoptive father would be glad that they’re almost at Daath. Jade puts it out of his mind, concentrating on more important things.

Curtiss brings them to the cathedral first, instead of straight to the thirty-third monument as Jade had expected. “It’s customary to get a Score reading before beginning the pilgrimage,” Curtiss says shortly.

There’s a long line ahead of them; Jade supposes that not even the famous Curtiss military family can cut ahead, especially when all are supposed to be equal under the Score. He subsides back into his own thoughts, although once or twice he catches Curtiss looking at him, his expression unreadable.

Finally, they’re ushered in to see the Scorer. Curtiss introduces himself first, then claps his hand against Jade’s shoulder. “My adopted son, Jade Curtiss. This is his first time taking the pilgrimage.”

“Welcome to Daath,” the Scorer says. Jade watches, curious, as the Scorer clasps his hands together, pale blue light welling out from between his fingers. His lips move soundlessly; unlike Curtiss’s personal Scorer, he doesn’t immediately pontificate on whatever vague future he had gleaned. Rather, he takes a moment after he finishes his reading to organize his thoughts before pressing the newly-created fonstone into Jade’s hand with a benign smile.

“The coming year holds many challenges for you,” he says. “But there is no need to be apprehensive. Do not despair if your work at the imperial city of Malkuth proceeds slowly, for the Score speaks of progress made, one step at a time. All will be well as long as you endure.”

Jade pockets the fonstone with a small frown. It’s nothing he hadn’t already known, but at least it’s more specific than the readings he usually hears.

The Scorer turns to Curtiss next. Again, his lips move soundlessly. After a moment, Jade is puzzled to realize that the Scorer is looking at him, his expression clouded.

The moment passes. The Scorer turns back to Curtiss, smiling, and Curtiss takes the fonstone, cradling it close.

“Do not fear to embark on perilous courses. Your Score foretells safety and peace.” The Scorer bows. “Any attempt to seize what you desire will be successful.”

“A fortunate Score,” Curtiss remarks. There’s an odd note in his voice, and Jade glances at him curiously, only to find that Curtiss is looking straight at him, his blue-grey eyes strangely heated. Unused to the scrutiny, Jade looks back at the Scorer, who seems to have forgotten all about him as he smiles levelly at Curtiss.

“Indeed. May Yulia and Lorelei bless you, pilgrims.”

Jade takes it as a signal to go. He turns away, hands slipping into his pockets, following Curtiss as he leads the way out of the cathedral, darkness giving way to blinding sunlight. “Are we heading to the thirty-third monument now?” He asks, eager to get started – and even more eager to be finished.

“Yes.” Curtiss’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. It’s far from the first time he had done so, and although Jade is never comfortable with it, he has learned to tolerate it. “The first few monuments are all in Daath. We’ll visit them all today and spend the night here.”

“Understood.”

The rest of the day crawls by in a haze of walking and sermons, followed by more walking. Now that he can no longer lock himself in his room and hide from Curtiss, Jade tries to control his mounting irritation, but he can’t help the scathing thoughts that flash through his mind as he listens to story after story of the world’s beginning and the nature of the seventh fonon. He’s spent so long studying the seventh fonon already; he could explain it better than these fanciful sermons.

No, that’s his arrogance leaking through again. He needs to be more mindful. He needs to atone. He needs…

The weight of Curtiss’s hand on him is a constant throughout the day. He thought Curtiss would be displeased that he isn’t treating the pilgrimage with any real sense of gravity, but Curtiss is in a strangely good mood. At the end of the day, they take a light pilgrim’s dinner together and head to the inn room Curtiss had arranged for them.

“We’re sharing a room?” Jade questions.

Curtiss looks at him. There’s something strange about his expression, a crystalline-sharp brightness in his eyes. “Naturally. You _are_ my son.”

He doesn’t really think of this man as his father, but he nods anyway, following him into the inn room. The lock clicks shut behind him. Jade’s first priority is to ensure the notes he had made while on the sea voyage to Daath are all in order. He can hear a matching rustle of papers on the other side of the room; Curtiss must be going through some documents as well. Strangely enough, he gets the feeling that Curtiss is watching him, but the few times he glances up to check, Curtiss looks intent on his task.

In fact, he’s still going when Jade is done, so Jade ignores him as he stands and heads to the bathroom, deciding to take a shower. From what he’s heard, he won’t be in a proper inn again until their pilgrimage ends with the first monument back in Daath. This whole trip really is an extravagant waste of time. Irritation simmers under his skin as he strips, stepping into the shower, turning his face towards the spray in the vain hope that the hot water will wash away some of his temper. There’s no point in sulking like a child. He tells himself that over and over again, until he’s no longer sure if he’s more irritated at himself or at this meaningless trip.

Then he hears something unexpected over the rush of water: the bathroom door creaking open. Jade’s heart skips a beat. Did he hear wrong? He can’t see anything through the shower curtain. It’s probably just Curtiss, and there’s still the curtain shielding him from view, but…

The thick curtain is suddenly yanked to the side. Curtiss is there, and then he’s pushing his way in, water splashing off his bare skin. Jade catches a glimpse of his muscular torso and abdomen, pale curls, the thick, hard length of–

As his broad shadow falls across Jade, the spell that roots him in place finally breaks. This is too much. Bristling, his hands ball into fists as he fixes Curtiss with an outraged glare. “You can’t seriously b–”

Curtiss’s broad hand covers his mouth. Pushed past his limits, Jade _bites_ , teeth sinking down viciously, but before he can break skin, Curtiss snatches his hand away and slaps him hard enough to send him stumbling. He scrabbles for purchase on the slippery tile. Hot water cascades all around him, soaking into his hair, his eyes…

A hand grabs his shoulder, spinning him around roughly. Half-blinded, Jade thrusts his arms out, searching for something to hold onto. He yelps as his elbow knocks against unforgiving tile, then he’s twisting madly, trying to buck off the hands that grab at his hips and thighs. “ _O maddeni-”_

Curtiss cuffs him over the back of his head. Pain explodes behind his eyelids, and the half-formed arte slides out of Jade’s grasp like so much quicksand. There’s something hard pressing into the back of his thighs, he realizes, shuddering with revulsion. Something thick and hard and _hot,_ hotter than the water that soaks him to the bone. His heart is beating painfully fast. Again, he tries to pull away, but Curtiss’s broad hands hold him in place, and when Jade reaches down to pry him off, Curtiss thrusts forward.

Jade gasps as Curtiss’s thick cock slides into the tight crevice formed by his thighs, slick skin against slick skin. The shock of it all makes Jade lose his footing; only the strength of Curtiss’s hands keeps him standing, and then Curtiss is taking advantage of the opportunity to crowd him forwards and trap him against the wall. Instinctively, Jade uses his hands to brace himself against the wall, only to flinch as Curtiss grunts his approval, teeth fastening hungrily against one pale shoulder.

“ _Stop it,”_ Jade hisses, but it’s pointless, what is he even _thinking –_ words never matter, only actions do. He needs to do something. He can’t just –

His whole body jolts forward with the force of Curtiss’s next thrust, shoulder flaring with renewed pain as Curtiss’s teeth dig deeper in. There’s something warm trickling down his skin; Jade can’t tell if it’s just the relentless fall of the shower or if it’s blood or saliva or…

He can’t understand why his mind is tripping over itself on such an unimportant detail when he needs to be planning. Acting. What if he pushes away from the wall – but no, the amount of force needed to dislodge Curtiss would mean he’ll lose his footing again, and then what will happen? His thoughts turn inanely to calculations of muscle mass and weight and leverage and friction, but ah, he needs to account for the modulating effects of adrenaline and noradrenaline as well, doesn’t he?

All the while Curtiss continues to thrust between his thighs as Jade stands there, frozen and useless. The little shower cubicle fills with the sounds of harsh breathing, Curtiss panting hot and wet against his ear, the grotesque slap of their flesh echoing, echoing – and still he stands there, a stupid _child,_ and it’s like he’s twelve all over again, standing frozen in a field of bloodied snow.

At some point his head had tipped forward to rest against the wall, each shove of Curtiss’s hips jolting him forward, forehead bumping against the tile in a regular rhythm. _Almost like resting your head against the window during a carriage ride,_ says the undisciplined swirl of his thoughts.

And: _Is he almost done yet?_

_What is wrong with me I should be –_

And that’s the problem, isn’t it. He doesn’t know what he should be doing, only that it's not _this_ , bracing himself obediently against the wall, half-blind and choking on hot water as his thoughts beat around each other in futile circles, spiralling through a hundred different actions and consequences until he's sick from the dissonance between his racing mind and the leaden inertia freezing his body in place.

Curtiss is speeding up, more and more of his weight crushing down on Jade. Rough hands palm at his hips, dragging them up, forcing Jade's back to curve in a shallow parabola. He's grunting, soft, and against his will Jade's mind latches onto that unimportant detail, turning it over and over in his head as he tries to figure out why it feels so different from grunts of exertion during, say, military drills, student training exercises, all of them a world away.

His mind is still preoccupied with that thought when a different kind of heat spatters onto his thighs and stomach. Oh. Curtiss must have...

It's fine. The water is washing it away – he can't even feel the stickiness any more, isn't that convenient? Curtiss didn't choose such a bad time to do this. Jade's forehead is still resting against the tile, and vaguely he catalogues the stiff aches in joints of his fingers, caused no doubt by how much pressure he's been putting on his hands. He really needs to be taking better care of them; he'll be useless without them. Jade grimaces as he curls his fingers.

Small as it is, the movement seems to break a spell. He's suddenly, acutely aware of Curtiss's hands, the heavy weight on his back, Curtiss pressed all around him, on him, inescapable.

Just as he feels his limbs freezing up again, Curtiss lets out another grunt, and suddenly he's just – gone. There's the scrape of cheap plastic as the shower curtain is dragged back into place, then heavy footsteps, the slam of the bathroom door.

He's all alone.

He's all alone, but he's still just _standing there_ , utterly useless. Jade feels something surge in his chest, quick and choking, but he's almost absurdly grateful for the abnormality because it's something he can focus on. Something he can fix.

Step by step. Regulate his breathing – he's started hyperventilating somewhere along the line. He feels light-headed – the shower was too hot, autonomic response to high temperature includes dilation of peripheral blood vessels, lowering of blood pressure, cause and effect, simple facts he can focus on – right. It's an easy solution. Get out of the shower. But then he'll have to step back into the inn room, where Curtiss is waiting. Besides, he should wash up again, shouldn't he? That sort of – _activity,_ it's messy.

Harshly, Jade wrenches his attention back to the present. Washing up. It's not difficult. The first step is to stand properly upright, and why didn't he _do_ that already, what is wrong with him today? He straightens, picking up the soap. There. A methodical drag down his arms, across his chest. His stomach. His thighs. See? It's all fine. He focuses on regulating his breathing again, trying to blink away the dizziness.

Maybe another wash, just to be sure – only he's self-aware enough to know that he's just trying to evade the inevitable at this point, and he's hardly about to tolerate such irrationality from himself. Still, it takes a conscious effort to turn off the shower, and for a few seconds he simply stands there, small and sodden as he berates himself to get a move on already.

Towel. Dry off. Clothes back on, fresh and clean. There's a mirror in the bathroom but it's all fogged up, and he's too tired to fight the way his eyes skitter away from it on their own. Another deep breath. Stand up straight; he's marching into a confrontation after this, he can't look weak in front of Curtiss. He may as well use all that military knowledge they've drilled into him.

Should he plan further? No – he needs to stop delaying. It makes no sense for it to be so difficult to open the door and take the few steps needed to bring him face-to-face with Curtiss, but each movement feels like a struggle and he can't understand why.

He hates it. His frustration spikes when he sees Curtiss reclining on an armchair, leafing through a book on the Order's teachings. The only sign that anything had happened is the slight dampness lending a curl to his pale hair. Otherwise, he's utterly calm, utterly at odds with the furious buzz crawling under Jade's skin telling him to act, act now.

Jade strides forward, words bursting from him before he can think better of them. "What was all that? Have you gone insane? Explain yourself. I want _answers._ "

His infuriation grows when Curtiss doesn't so much as blink. His adoptive father only gives him a bland look, setting his book to one side. "Pull up a chair and sit with me, Jade."

Jade stands his ground, a stubborn set to his jaw. "No. Don't try to distract me."

" _Sit._ "

They glare at each other - or rather, Jade glares, and Curtiss merely gives him an arch look, an instructor waiting for an unruly trainee to come to heel.

"Don’t treat me like I’m some trained dog," Jade hisses, surprising himself with his own venom. "Explain yourself, or I'll–"

_I'll tell someone,_ because he might not have a name for what Curtiss had done to him, but he knows it's wrong, something shameful to be left hidden away in the dark. It's not the sort of thing people are supposed to do to their adopted sons. It's not the sort of thing adults should be doing to children.

But he doesn't want to rely on someone else, and anyway, Curtiss seems far too calm about all this.

"Just sit down, Jade, and let's talk this through like adults."

Jade would bristle at the implication that he's acting childishly, but he knows Curtiss has a point. Only children dig their heels in and lose their temper over something as trivial as being asked to take a seat.

But that isn't entirely right, is it? He can't just – just bow and scrape and mindlessly obey all of Curtiss's orders. Only, that particular request wasn't such an unreasonable one, Jade thinks, except he can't _trust_ Curtiss; Curtiss must be trying to manipulate him into something.

He doesn't know. The fight is leaking out of him, and Jade scrabbles to latch onto the familiar anger at wasting time. It's enough to propel him forward, and he stomps off – _so childish –_ to grab a chair and sit in front of Curtiss, facing him with a mutinous glare that he's unable to temper.

His glare only deepens as Curtiss looks at him admonishingly. "What?" Jade demands. "I did as you asked."

Curtiss sighs. "Only the letter of it."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you remember what things were like, back when you first came to live with me?"

Jade's fingers twitch at having his question answered with another question. "I don't know if you're thinking of a particular incident. Sir."

"Hmm." It's clear that Curtiss has something specific in mind, but of course he isn't going to make things easy. "Incidents tend to blur together at my age, especially when dealing with someone like you. Do you know what your biggest flaw is, Jade?"

_What?_ "I don't see how that relates–"

"Pride." Curtiss cuts through his heated retort, implacable as stone. "Over-confidence. Arrogance. Call it whatever you like, the root of the problem is the same. You think you have all the answers, you think your work is more important than anything else, and you end up lashing out whenever something gets in your way. But haven't you heard that saying before, that pride comes before the fall _?_ I thought you would have taken it to heart, considering..."

"Don't." His cheeks feel blotchy with heat. _Don't bring her into this._

There's a sympathetic light in Curtiss's eyes, and somehow that cuts deeper than anything else. He rests a hand lightly on Jade's thigh. "It's a hard thing, changing the core of who you are. I know you've been trying. You did well the first few months, but lately... Well. You can't just hide behind excuses and say you hate being taken from your work. You've been regressing badly. You know that, don't you?"

Curtiss seems to be expecting a response, but Jade can only nod stiffly. Yes. He knows. It's all he could think about during the journey to Daath.

"You need a firm hand," Curtiss continues. "I had hoped the military academy will be enough, but evidently not. You're very intelligent, but you're also too headstrong for your own good. That makes it easy for you to sabotage yourself without realizing it. Do you agree?"

It's a fair assessment, Jade supposes, although it's never easy to have his shortcomings dragged out and spread open for display like this. Still, he nods.

"Good." The corners of Curtiss's eyes crinkle. "Admitting to your faults is the first step in the path to self-improvement. Humility and obedience – the Order teaches us that they form the foundation of a good life."

The Order again. Jade tries to quell his usual irritation. He knows he doesn't entirely succeed, but Curtiss merely pats his hand and rises to his feet. "Remember what the Scorer had said earlier today. All will be well as long as you endure."

"Understood." He wants to say something else – it feels as if nothing had been resolved, none of his questions answered – but he can't seem to find the appropriate words. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes, I have some business to attend to. I expect you'll be asleep by the time I get back. Try to get plenty of rest; we'll be doing a lot of traveling tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

Curtiss leaves, and with him goes some of the tension Jade hadn't even realized he had been carrying. He slumps deeper into his seat, an odd tremor run through his body. What now? The more he thinks about it, the more he's forced to admit that Curtiss had pulled the wool neatly over his eyes. He didn't get a single straight answer out of him. Instinct tells him to force another confrontation _right now_ , before Curtiss has the chance to sweep things even further under the rug, but Jade pictures himself dashing after Curtiss like an overeager puppy and cringes. In any case, they just had a talk about restraining his headstrong nature.

Which leaves...what? Waiting for Curtiss to come back? Forcing a confrontation in the morning? Some other time in the nebulous future? He turns the matter over and over in his mind like a mathematical formula to be solved, and although he keeps asking himself what he plans to say during this hypothetical confrontation, what he hopes to get out of it, Jade finds he has no answers.

In that case, he reasons, he may as well treat it like he's approaching any other problem. Which means his first step will be to find more information. Daath is hardly the place to carry out this sort of research – wryly, he wonders if Daath's libraries will have anything aside from religious texts – so he'll have to wait until they return to Grand Chokmah before he does anything.

Jade has the nagging feeling that he's just making excuses to put off the confrontation, but he decides it's unlikely. His logic is sound, and he's not one to shy away from an argument; he’s not about to start now.

Satisfied with his plan, Jade follows Curtiss's advice and turns in early.

\---

He snaps awake, heart pounding madly in his chest. The room is pitch black, all the fonstone lamps extinguished – ah, no, there's a sliver of light now, slanting out from beneath the closed bathroom door. He can hear Curtiss shuffling about, getting ready for bed. He must have just returned.

Rolling over to lie on his side, Jade closes his eyes firmly. The fabric of the pillowcase is rough and hot against his cheek, the blankets a suffocating weight; he has to fight down the childish urge to fidget. His heart is still racing. Jade curls his fingers against the bedspread, willing himself to calm so he can just go back to sleep already.

Too late. His limbs jerk spasmodically when he hears the bathroom door opening, Curtiss's footsteps coming closer. Jade squeezes his eyes even more firmly shut, trying to mimic the slow, regular breathing patterns of someone deeply asleep. His heart seems determined to beat its way out of his ribcage as Curtiss steps closer and closer, then past him, climbing into his own bed.

Jade lies there in the dark, sometimes looking at the wall, sometimes closing his eyes. He wonders if Curtiss is doing the same thing. He wonders what Curtiss is thinking about. He wonders if he'll ever get any answers.

Eventually, Curtiss's breathing levels off, slow and deep. Jade closes his eyes again. He just wants to _sleep_ , and he thinks he manages it, only his eyes flare wide open some indeterminable amount of time later when something rustles softly, his whole body jerking violently awake in response. Jade buries his face into his pillow and tries to nudge himself back into slumber, slowly fading into that uncomfortable liminal space where he's dozing yet all too aware of his surroundings.

It only takes the softest creak to snap him to full wakefulness again. The night drags on, an unending cycle of restless dozing and moments of sharp, painful clarity, his heart in his throat. By the time the room begins to lighten, Jade is more exhausted than he had been at the start of the night. Carefully, he sits up, resisting the urge to rub at his achingly dry eyes.

The morning passes in a haze. He works quietly until Curtiss wakes up, the two of them exchanging their usual meaningless courtesies over a light breakfast. Afterwards, they join the stream of pilgrims making their way outside the sheltering walls of Daath.

It's all very unsettlingly normal. More than once, Jade catches himself wondering if last night had really happened.

It doesn't help that Jade has little interest in theology at the best of times. The pilgrimage blurs past in a dream-like fog: when he thinks back, he can remember little except the expanse of Padamiya’s gentle hills, the Order representatives and their droning sermons, the wending stream of pilgrims lost in their own peaceful contemplations. He remembers the roughness of sun-warmed rock under his skin, fingers tracing the graceful curves of Ancient Ispanian script – … _When she took her seventh step, she heard the voice of Lorelei…_

What must it be like, he had wondered, to be able to put faith in something not completely known, not completely quantifiable?

What is it like, to have a belief pure enough to create such unwavering faith?

Then Curtiss's hand had come to rest on the small of his back, propelling him along, and Jade leaves the monument behind him.

It's not that he's a stranger to Curtiss's touch, is the thing. Curtiss had always been physical, clapping him on the shoulders, guiding him along with a hand on his back, sometimes clasping their hands together in prayer. Jade had – well, it would be inaccurate to say he didn't mind, but it was something he could live with. So it makes no sense that he's suddenly taken to tensing and startling at every little accidental brush of their bodies together, at every innocent, incidental touch. He's a child jumping at shadows, but at least Curtiss doesn't remark on his skittishness, allowing him to retain the last vestiges of his dignity.

It takes a few days to finish the pilgrimage and return to Daath, where the final monument is located. By then, Jade is completely worn out, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and not much else. It's a shame – Curtiss appears to be in a good mood, and past experience has taught Jade that Curtiss is charitable at these times, amenable to conversations about research and funding. He darts a glance at Curtiss, who returns his look with a smile.

Curtiss has some business in the city again, so Jade returns to the inn first, taking advantage of Curtiss's absence to hastily scrub off the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the past few days of travel. That done, he forces himself to stride over to the desk and pick up some of his work even though his body is crying out for rest.

The words swim in front of his eyes. He takes off his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He can't rest _now_ ; he's behind on his work, he hadn’t even tested out the artes like he had planned...

The door lock clicks as it turns. Jade snaps to wakefulness – when had he fallen asleep? – jumping so badly that he almost falls out of his chair. Stupid, comically stupid, it’s a wonder that Curtiss still has any shred of respect for him.

By then, Curtiss had already shut the door and is striding across the room, and Jade flinches as broad hands come to rest on his shoulders, anchoring him in place.

"Working hard?" Curtiss must be teasing him. Jade carefully smooths down the irritation that threatens to show.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't know what came over me."

"None of that now." Curtiss squeezes his shoulders firmly. "I've been impressed by your conduct during the pilgrimage. I know it wasn't easy for you, spending so much time away from your studies for something you have trouble believing in, but you haven't lost your temper once. You've made excellent progress already, Jade."

Perhaps it's true, but... Something about that doesn't sit right with Jade. "Thank you?"

"You have trouble accepting compliments, don't you?" Curtiss's big hands smooth across his shoulders, almost a massage. "You're very tense today."

_You should know why,_ Jade almost snaps, but he reins himself back. Perhaps Curtiss has a point about his improving control. "I'm fine."

His body betrays him a second later, flinching as Curtiss digs his thumbs into the nape of his neck. Curtiss pauses, all sympathy. "Does it hurt?"

"No." He bites back a hiss as Curtiss repeats the motion, and reluctantly corrects his obvious lie. "Just a little. Leave it, it's fine." Don't touch me. Stop touching me.

Curtiss's hands drop away, but in the next moment, he walks around to lean over the desk and reaches out for the material scattered there. Alarmed, Jade grabs Curtiss's wrist. "What are you–"

Curtiss glances at him, and Jade snatches his hand back. So much for improving his control. "Sorry," he says stiffly. "I'm just tired."

"I can see that. Why do you think I was trying to help you pack up?"

"Sorry," he says again, feeling stupid. Over-emotional.

Curtiss only shakes his head. "Go lie down, Jade."

"I don't–" He looks at his glasses, still lying on the desk where he had taken them off earlier. That he's too tired to work couldn't be more obvious. "All right."

His body doesn't feel like it wholly belongs to him when he pushes himself up to his feet, making his way over to his bed. Curtiss turns off the fonstone lights in the room, leaving only a small lamp, its glow soft and intimate. Jade curls onto his side, pulling the blankets over himself. His heartbeat sounds so loud, beating away like a sparrow frantic from imprisonment. Sleep, he tells himself, as Curtiss strides across the room, his footsteps heavy. Just sleep.

With a groan, his mattress dips beneath Curtiss's weight, and Jade tightens his grip on his thin blanket. He stays absolutely still as Curtiss reaches forward to rest his hand against his forehead.

"You feel hot," Curtiss says. Jade can't recall ever having heard his voice so low and soft before. Hands tug at his blanket. "You shouldn't be covering yourself up, you're overheated."

"I'm fine. I just need rest." It feels like a mantra.

Curtiss _wrenches_ , and suddenly Jade is holding nothing but empty air, the blanket slithering off the bed. He tries to push himself up, but Curtiss is too fast: a sharp shove sends Jade facedown on the mattress, gasping as the breath is driven from him.

Then Curtiss is sitting on top of him, knees bracketing around his smaller body, weight driving him down, trapping him –

Jade pushes himself up to his elbows, trying to twist his way free, only to have Curtiss shove him down again. Blood rushes in his ears. He feels like he's suffocating.

"You're heavy," Jade forces himself to say, simple and factual. He knows better than to give voice to the desperation bouncing around inside his skull, the pathetic, useless pleas of _stop_ and _get off me_ and _what is wrong with you?_

"Too much for you to handle?" Warm hands slip under his shirt, resting against his back. Jade shivers, burying his face into the pillow. Yes. No. There's no good answer to that question.

"I know what you're doing, you know." He won't play Curtiss's damn games. "There's no need to try and trick me into trapping myself into a corner."

Curtiss's hands are terribly gentle as they drag slowly up his back, stroking the smooth, untouched skin. "I'm glad to hear that. You're growing up, Jade."

He can't identify the emotion surging in his chest, hot and frenetic. There's the strangest urge to laugh, but he quashes it down in favour of breathing evenly, trying to keep his calm. "Are you going to say this is just a part of _growing up?"_

"This?"

Jade almost snarls. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

Hands pet at him, as if he's some skittish animal in need of soothing. "This is just a massage, Jade. It's normal enough. Let me take care of you, you've been so tense lately. Take off your shirt for me?"

"No." He draws strength from that small bit of resistance. "I didn't ask for your help."

Curtiss doesn't get off him, his weight slowly crushing him into the mattress. "Have it your way."

When Curtiss touches him again, it's more purposeful, hands pressing down in long, firm strokes. Little uncontrollable shivers race up and down Jade's spine, his skin prickling even as it gradually warms under the press of Curtiss's calloused palms. He's never been touched like this before, all slow and deliberate, like his body is something of interest, a curiosity to be explored. Jade fists his hands into the corners of his pillow, forcing himself to take deep breaths. Curtiss has him well and truly trapped. Thrashing about won't work – it's not worth the indignity. He reminds himself of his plan to do some research once they're back in Grand Chokmah, his conviction to hold off on any drastic action until then.

"That's it," Curtiss murmurs, hands moving now in short and circular strokes, kneading at the tension that strings Jade tight as a marionette. "Relax for me, a massage is more effective that way."

The childish part of Jade urges him to be contrary, but that's hardly logical, is it. Jade takes another deep breath and does his best to relax. If he's going to let Curtiss do as he pleases, then he may as well try to derive as much benefit from it as he can.

It's so utterly odd to be touched by someone like this, but as long as he shuffles that strangeness to the back of his mind, receiving a massage isn't entirely bad. Curtiss is patient and attentive as he works at his back, the firm press of his hands sending a warm flush through Jade's entire body. His earlier exhaustion returns, settling gently over Jade's tired mind. Before long, Jade finds he can't keep his eyes open any more, even though something in his chest seizes up when Curtiss says _yes, just like that,_ all gentle approval.

An indeterminable amount of time later, Jade drifts into half-wakefulness as Curtiss's hands smooth down his ribs, along his sides. "Tickles," he mumbles into the pillow, squirming a little.

Curtiss's weight shifts on top of him, and Jade frowns when his sleepy mind registers the change to Curtiss's breathing - it's deeper, somehow, more urgent. Again, Curtiss's hands stroke along his sides, and Jade can't hold back another bout of squirming. He buries his face deeper into the pillow, trying to get his body back under control.

It's a lost cause. Curtiss's hands slip _under_ him, wedging between his body and the mattress, and Jade gasps out a startled hiss as broad hands palm at his chest. The cottony warmth blanketed around his mind vanishes in an instant, alarm surging as Curtiss continues to stroke him, rough and urgent, hands pressing everywhere, against his sternum and down the flat planes of his stomach and then up again, groping. Jade thrashes, only to have Curtiss's weight bears down even more firmly on him.

"What do you want," Jade gasps. For some reason, he can't stop shaking. "Just tell me."

There's no reply except for Curtiss's panting breaths, the squeeze and grope of his hands laying claim.

"Just tell me," Jade repeats. " _Please._ "

Curtiss groans at that, a ragged exhalation of Jade's name. "The things you do to me," he pants, "You have no idea. I've wanted you for so long."

"Please," Jade says again, as Curtiss shifts above him, grinding down. Why can't Curtiss just tell him – wouldn't that be easier for him? Jade can just give him what he wants and then all of this will stop.

"Shh. I'll show you."

Jade gasps as the weight crushing down on him suddenly disappears. He pushes himself up instantly, but Curtiss's strong arms wrap around him, pulling him onto his lap, his back pressed against Curtiss's chest. There's a hardness jutting against his rear, obvious even though both of them are still clothed.

Heat fans against his ear as Curtiss leans close, impatiently rucking up his shirt. "You've always been a good pupil, Jade. Such a hard worker. Let me teach you this. Better you learn from me now than make a fool of yourself later. I know how much you value your pride."

Jade doesn't move. He knows that Curtiss is trying to appeal to his logical side, and it isn't even working particularly well, not with this innate sense of _wrongness_ upsetting the balance of his mental scales that weigh up benefit and drawback, yes and no. He doesn't even understand why he's having such a powerful emotional response to all of this. It makes no sense. It's not – it shouldn't even be particularly upsetting. There's no pain. Curtiss isn't hurting him. He had just, it was only –

Stubble rasps across the sensitive skin at his jaw and neck as Curtiss leans in, and Jade shudders at the feeling of lips pressing against his skin. It reminds him of the way Curtiss had ran his hands against his ribs: ticklish, uncomfortable, too much.

But this is normal, isn't it? Students at the academy whisper about it all the time even though Jade always tunes them out. People enjoy this. Couples. He and Curtiss may not be a couple, but there's no reason why his reaction to this sensory stimulus should be different to that of normal people. He can only take it as confirmation that he's not normal – just as people have been saying all along.

Curtiss is still palming slowly at his front. Heat flushes through his skin; Jade shifts, restless, only to freeze again as Curtiss's hard length grinds against him. He braces himself for a cutting remark, but there's nothing. Curtiss is utterly absorbed in touching him, hands dipping lower and lower, until it's all Jade can do to stay motionless instead of jumping to his feet and start pacing back and forth, back and forth, itching within the confines of his skin.

He doesn't move. He only breathes out, sharp, when a broad hand squeezes at his groin, rubbing at him through his trousers. Curtiss exhales noisily behind him, and this time it's less of a shock when Curtiss grinds and rubs against him, his groans heavy with satisfaction.

Time seems to pass in a blur after that. Later, he doesn't remember much except the suffocating warmth of Curtiss's hands, the constant pressure against his skin, the quiet grunts Curtiss makes as he takes his pleasure. He doesn't remember how Curtiss finishes, only that he's left alone all of a sudden, and he drags himself under his blanket and tries to fall asleep as quickly as possible.

The dim light of predawn finds him waking up with a dull, insistent throb behind his eyes. He glances around the room warily, noting Curtiss's sleeping form in the other bed. Jade breathes out in a low sigh, rubbing his eyes. It's too early to be up, and his eyes still feel tired and dry.

His skin itches. Quietly, he slips off to change, stuffing his old outfit into the bottom of his luggage where he won't have to look at them again. His thoughts continue to skitter determinedly around, avoiding what had happened last night. He finds himself at a loss to explain his behavior.

Sleep, he decides, climbing back into his bed. Sleep.

He feels even worse when he wakes again late in the morning, numbly going through the motions of getting ready for the day, eating breakfast, then quietly climbing onto the carriage that will take them to the por, and from there they’ll board the ferry back to Grand Chokmah. Curtiss appears to be in a contemplative mood; the two of them don't exchange so much as a word, and Jade keeps his eyes downcast for most of the trip.

It's easier once they reach the ferry. He locks himself in his assigned room for most of the trip, venturing out only at odd hours. The rest of his time is spent on his research, submerging himself in numbers and figures until they're all he can see, swimming around behind his eyelids even when he has his eyes closed.

He knows he's in trouble when they arrive at Grand Chokmah, Curtiss a frosty presence at his side. The journey back to the manor passes in silence, Jade staring out at the window, quietly dreading the confrontation to come.

But he's given a reprieve. There's an urgent missive waiting for Curtiss and he ends up departing immediately, leaving Jade alone in the vast and empty halls of the manor.


End file.
